The clinic smelled of antiseptic and silence. The halls were so clean they looked unreal. The machines beeped with cold regularity, and no one ever raised their voice. Svetlana had only been working there for a few weeks, but she already knew that this place was different.

This wasn’t just a hospital. It was a holding space between life and death.

And in room #7, someone very important was waiting.

Viktor Ivanov.

He was a billionaire. Not just rich, but legendary. The founder of one of the biggest tech empires in Eastern Europe. People had written books about him. He was known for being sharp, ruthless, visionary.

Then came the crash.

One rainy night, his car swerved off the road. No witnesses. No brake marks. He survived, but slipped into a coma. Doctors said the brain activity was minimal, but stable. Legally alive, but… not present.

Yet Svetlana had a different feeling.

Just a Job… or So She Thought
Her contract was clear: monitor his vitals, adjust his machines, maintain hygiene. That included changing his medical diapers.

Some of her coworkers joked about it.

— «Imagine that. Wiping a billionaire’s ass. What a fall from grace, huh?»

But Svetlana didn’t laugh. She didn’t think it was funny.

Because when she was in that room, she didn’t feel like Viktor Ivanov was gone. She felt watched. Not in a creepy way — but like someone was still in there, behind the silence.

The First Message
It happened on a Tuesday morning.

Everything was normal. She entered, checked his pulse, took his blood pressure, and began her usual hygiene routine. Gloves on, hands steady. She opened a fresh diaper and went to remove the used one.

And froze.

Inside the diaper was writing.

Blue ink. Shaky letters. Faint, but unmistakable:

“HELP ME. I’M AWAKE.”

Her hands went cold. She looked around the room. Empty.

She checked the camera feed later — no one had entered during the night. Only her.

A Second Message
The next day, she returned, heart pounding. Could it have been a mistake? A prank?

She cleaned him again. Changed the diaper.

Another message.

“THEY’RE LYING. I’M NOT IN A COMA.”

That night, she couldn’t sleep.

The Silent Blink
On the third day, she tried something. She leaned over and whispered into Viktor’s ear:

— “If you can hear me, blink once.”

Nothing.

— “Just once.”

He blinked.

One slow, heavy motion of the eyelid.

Shut Down
Three days later, she was removed from her position.

The reason? “Breach of protocol. Emotional involvement.”

But Svetlana knew better. Someone didn’t want her asking questions.

She started digging. Found out that Viktor’s company had been quietly transferred to a “temporary board” — men he had once taken to court. Men with motive.

His coma wasn’t just a tragedy. It was convenient.

Her Last Night
Svetlana returned to the clinic at night. Used an old ID badge. No one stopped her.

Room 7 was dimly lit, silent.

She sat beside him, took his hand, and whispered:

— “If you want me to tell the truth… squeeze my fingers.”

A faint pressure. Barely noticeable. But it was real.

Disappearance
The next morning, Svetlana was gone. Her apartment was empty. Her phone disconnected.

No trace. No farewell.

Viktor? Transferred to a facility “abroad.” No details given. His name faded from headlines.

The Leak
Weeks later, a blurry photo appeared on a hidden internet forum.

A medical diaper.

In the center: shaky handwriting.

“I’M NOT IN A COMA. I’M TRAPPED.